


The Marten, The Rogue, and The Wardrobe

by TreeOfMuffins



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Alternate Universe - Homestuck Fusion, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Daemons, F/F, F/M, Gen, More characters will show up in later chapters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-His Dark Materials, SBURB, WE'LL SEE!, possibly some side relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreeOfMuffins/pseuds/TreeOfMuffins
Summary: "For the second time in her bizarre life, Lyra Silvertongue found herself hiding in a wardrobe. Once again, she was exploring a place she was not meant to be exploring and had gotten in a little over her head."Roughly three years since saving the multiverse, Lyra and Will, with the help of friends old and new, will be whisked into another unforgiving series of events. It seems they will continue building the Republic of Heaven... in SBURB?





	The Marten, The Rogue, and The Wardrobe

 For the second time in her bizarre life, Lyra Silvertongue found herself hiding in a wardrobe. Once again, she was exploring a place she was not meant to be exploring and had gotten in a little over her head. Both herself and her Daemon, Pantalaimon, who settled as a pine martin, had grown since their last closet adventure and it was a little cramped. In fact, it was considerably cramped. No longer the short-for-her-age eleven-year-old, this wardrobe could barely contain her and Pantalaimon.

“Pan, really? D’ya have to stand up there?” Lyra whispered loudly, not quite remembering the urgency of the situation.

“Lyra, shhh, they’ll hear us!” Pan replied, ignoring her query and remaining stock-still on top of her head. The lavish study outside was quiet, it seemed the patrolling officials had passed. “Lyra, why did we run in here? What are you hoping to gain from this?”

“Dearest Pantalaimon, have you misplaced your sense of adventure?” Lyra mocked, speaking just like the ladies at St. Sophia's had insisted, “I know we’ve been hard at work these past few years, but I didn’t think you’d become such a bore.” Of course, speaking about Pantalaimon was the same as speaking of herself.

Lyra opened the door, trying ever so hard not to fall out of her constricted hiding space, and looked upon the elegant wooden desk in front of her, only a few metres from the wardrobe. A thin but wide metallic box rested on top of it. As Lyra closed the distance between her and the silver treasure, it became apparent that it was far too flat to be a box, nothing but a few sheets of paper would be able to fit in such a container. Pantalaimon, who had leapt onto the floor upon leaving the wardrobe, had just scampered onto the chair to get a closer look.

“Lyra, what is it?” He asked, open curiosity on his face.

“I’ve no idea, Pan,” Lyra answered, extending a hand to brush along its cool flat surface.

Pantalaimon stood on the desk, opposite the chair now, and sniffed the strange object. He scrunched his nose at the smell, the metallic scent reminiscent of blood. “Lyra, we shouldn’t be here. Please, let’s just leave,” He pleaded.

Lyra ignored him, entranced by the mysterious thing in front of her. It reminded her of the great armour of a Panserbjørn, strong and intricate. There was a white symbol of a fruit somehow embedded into the top, and a rectangular indent in what appeared to be the front of the treasure, which extended into a smaller groove that ran around the edge, with holes-

“Lyra!” Pantalaimon whispered insistently from across the room, “We need to go. Now.” Lyra could hear for herself what he meant: footsteps and conversation, getting louder every second. Feeling the rush of adrenaline, Lyra frantically looked around the room, coming out of her daze.

The window.

Lyra lifted the treasure (that was somehow both heavier and lighter than she had imagined) and stored it in her satchel, turning away from the desk, quickly rushing to the window behind it. It was the perfect escape route, she could clearly see the way out of the grounds and back to her Oxford. If only she could open it. Pantalaimon was still standing nervously near the door, glancing back and forth between Lyra and the corridor outside. Lyra retrieved a hairpin from her long dark blonde hair and began frantically picking the lock of the window as she heard the footsteps approaching. In her panicked state, she dropped the pin.

Quickly, she picked it up, took a deep breath and began again, praying to all of the universes that the guards did not pick this moment to survey the room. Meanwhile, Pantalaimon carefully stood by the door, listening for any indication that they would be caught.

“Gotcha!” Lyra burst out, startling Pantalaimon.

“Lyra! They’re coming!” Pan resounded, hurtling towards Lyra. He leapt upon the chair, then the desk, and jumped through the now open window into the bright afternoon sun. Lyra quickly followed, exiting the ornate study and landing in a row of bushes. Despite the situation, a huge grin appeared on Lyra’s face as she and her daemon ran away from Lord Boreal’s house. She supposed she should feel bad for the theft she had committed, but the man with the serpent daemon had stolen from her before - and the alethiometer no less!

Besides, he was dead now.

Safely away from the house, Lyra and Pantalaimon walked out of Summertown, as if they were merely on an afternoon stroll, and back to Jordan College.

 

|||

 

Back home, Lyra sat on her bed with Pantalaimon. Although she studied at St. Sophia’s College, she still lived in Jordan College. The old place was a part of her and she would always consider it home, no matter where in the multiverse she was, or as she would soon experience, no matter if she were outside the multiverse itself.

Lyra retrieved the thin, silver box from her satchel and set it on her bed. Pantalaimon was still not keen on the object, but Lyra was curious.

She ran her finger around the edge of the box along the indentation until her finger caught on the hollow of what she had come to consider the front. Carefully, she tried to pry open the box. It didn't take much force before it suddenly popped open, allowing her to easily lift the lid back against its hinges. But before Lyra could properly see the contents, she heard a sharp rap at the door and quickly closed the lid.

"Miss Silvertongue, need I remind you that you are attending the function tonight in the hall?" Spoke a feminine voice from behind the door.

"You can remind me all you like, it won't make me any more likely to go," Lyra responded.

"Well if you'd just let me in, I might be able to change that."

Lyra stored the box in her satchel and slid it under her bed, before approaching the door to her room. "What could you possibly say that would change my mind about going to this stuffy dinner?" Lyra asked.

"What if I told you, that my infuriating mother let slip a very intriguing piece of information in one of her drunken stupors yesterday?"

"I might just ask you to tell me more."

"I see. May I?" Asked the voice, requesting entry.

Lyra rose from the bed and unlocked the door to reveal the delicate face of her close friend (and mentor) Rose Lalondé, her stunning purple eyes full of knowledge, looking even more vibrant next to her dark skin. Her daemon, a New Alban Crow fluttered down to the ground, "Greetings, Pantalaimon" she spoke.

"Hi, Cyäegha," Pan responded. The large black crow flew back to rest on Rose's shoulder, who was one of the rare people born with a same-sex daemon.

"Alright, I'm intrigued, fill me in on the latest ramble of Ms Lalondé," said Lyra.

Rose sat down on a chair in the corner, one leg over the other, as she began to speak. "Well, last night she was particularly inebriated. Thankfully she had not brought home any gentlemen suitors this time, she was far too preoccupied wallowing in self-pity for that. During a passive-aggressive display of affection featuring eschatological musings, she let slip information about a discovery the scholars have made in the crypts."

Lyra let out a dramatic sigh, "You and your darn crypts. If you didn't look so stunning I'd say you were a ghast." Rose wiggled her eyebrows at what she considered a compliment. Lyra retorted, "Oh shut up, you know what I meant."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lyra. But I'm serious about this. Although obscenely drunk, my mother did sound genuinely intrigued by whatever they have discovered."

“As intrigued as she was with Lord Boreal’s treasure?”

"That ordinator-like contraption did pique her interest, somewhat,” Rose paused for thought, “No, I'd say she was far more interested in this latest discovery. Although it was hard to tell if that was just her musings of the end times creeping in.”

"Well, where in the crypts is it?"

"Also unknown."

Lyra looked at her suspiciously, "Do you honestly not know, or are you just trying to get me hooked enough to come to this fancy dinner?"

Rose smirked knowingly and said, "Lyra, have you considered the field of psycho-analogy for study? Sometimes you seem to have quite a natural grasp on it."

Lyra groaned, "Right, well I guess I'll _have_ to go in order to have some more fun around here."

"That's the spirit," Rose said, as she got up. She walked over to Lyra and pulled a twig out of her messy hair. "Honestly, you can't expect to attend a formal dinner like this."

Reluctantly, Lyra agreed, "Fiiine, let's get ready." Rose gleefully walked towards the wardrobe as Lyra decided she had better wash up in the bathroom.

 

|||

 

Lyra and Rose walked down the corridor leading up to the Hall, Pantalaimon at Lyra's feet, Cyäegha on Rose's shoulder. Lyra’s hair was curled in loose ringlets and she was wearing a long golden dress that ended at her ankles. She was also wearing a pair of fancy gloves that extended almost to her elbows. Rose was in a shorter white and purple dress that contrasted perfectly against her complexion.

Rose had taken to Lyra quite quickly after their initial meeting and had made it her duty to guide Lyra through her studies as well as making sure she was suitably dressed for formal occasions; although she didn’t have such an aversion to being clean as she used to, Lyra didn’t find the task particularly appealing.

“Being a postgraduate student of Oxford, as well as daughter of the College’s Cassington Scholar, it wasn’t hard to acquire an invitation to this soirée, but I’m still curious as to why you were invited by name, being still so young,” Rose inquired as they continued walking, “this isn’t your typical evening meal with the scholars.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. They were fairly insistent, but I hadn’t put much thought into it.” Lyra replied.

“Well, it must be important, whatever the reason. Regardless, we should be able to wheedle some information out of at least a few of the attendants here tonight.”

By this point, the two of them had reached the large open doorway into the Hall - a large chamber usually occupied by four tables, one perpendicular to the other three. Tonight, however, things had been rearranged. Two of the usual tables were pushed aside, against the longest walls, whilst the third was missing. The final table was still present,  parallel to the fourth and furthest wall. Upon the wall, was the skull of Iorek Byrnison, hanging proudly above them, his empty sockets watching over the hall.

After returning to Svalbard as King with the rest of the armoured bears, he had established order and begun rebuilding the panserbjørn society that had been lost to Iofur, the previous King. The Bears returned largely to their solitary ways,  with the addition of trade being established between Svalbard and the humans of neighbouring islands and any aëronaut willing enough to make the trek. However, dissent existed within bears still set in Iofur’s way - they trusted Iorek not to have the communities best interest at heart and opposed the newly established trade. A brief civil war occurred between the armoured bears, one which Iorek quashed at the cost of his life. The survivors responsible for the attempted usurping were exiled, and in Iorek’s place, a new leader rose to the throne - following in Iorek’s great footsteps.

Sometime after their late leader’s death, his skull was presented as a gift to the university - a gesture of goodwill to the people of Jordan College for the role Lyra Silvertongue played in assisting Iorek in returning panserbjørn society to normal in Svalbard. It was always the first thing Lyra noticed when she entered the Hall.

As Rose and Lyra entered, Ms Lalondé waved an arm at her daughter, “Ayy, Rose darling, you made it!” Rose looked visibly tense as her slightly intoxicated mother sauntered over, her dark Siamese cat daemon following in similar fashion. Despite Rose being an adult herself, her mother still babied her, “I was starting to worry about you, the party’s already begun!”

Rose loosened up and took on an unimpressed tone, “You know this isn’t a party- in fact, you should know more about what’s going on than I do, I thought this was a formal dinner.”

“If I know more than you do,” Ms Lalonde hiccuped, “then I say it’s a party.” With that, she walked away, off to socialise with some other scholar or experimental theologian. At that moment, Lyra realised that she couldn’t actually see many scholars around the room, and - barring Ms Lalonde - they all seemed to be quite sombre. Although the usual scholars weren’t exactly chipper, the people in this room were certainly glum and unusually quiet, most speaking barely above a whisper.

“Rose, what’s goin’ on” Lyra asked.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she replied.

Two men stood out from the solemn crowd, one in a long white coat with an armadillo daemon and what Lyra could only describe as perfect hair, the other in an odd ensemble of mismatched clothing and a margay daemon. Upon being noticed, they started walking towards Lyra and Rose.

Rose noticed them too and quietly said, "Dr. Ramirez?"

"Ah, hello again Rose," the man with the armadillo daemon said, "and you must be Miss Silvertongue? I'm Dr. Ramirez." He addressed Lyra, his hand outstretched.

"Call me Lyra. Pleased to meet you." She responded, shaking his hand.

"I've heard great things about you Lyra, mainly from the Gyptians, but from other sources too, I mean I'm from Hispania Nova, so your tale's travelled far. Stories of panserbjørn, of angels and other worlds, also is it true that you could read an alethiometer by grace alone? Anyway, none of that matters, well it does - I mean it’s theologically fascinating-" Dr. Ramirez was interrupted by a cough and a nudge from his partner. "Sorry, I was rambling wasn't I," he gave a nervous laugh and looked slightly embarrassed. The oddly dressed man took over, his voice deep and melodic, "What Dr. Ramirez is trying to say, is that we have an important message for you Lyra. One that we believe you should hear immediately."

"Yes, it was lucky that we were able to make it here at all. Ms. Lalonde helped greatly with that."

Rose responded, "Really, my mother managed to help?"

"Oh yes, remarkably," the other man said.

Rose looked unconvinced, but Dr. Ramirez continued regardless, "Listen, there are disturbing anomalies appearing globally regarding Rusakov concentrations; a worldwide increase in sightings of meteorological phenomena; and an abundance of localised minor tremors around 2.16 on the Richter scale."

The other man chimed in, "Disregarding the theological jargon, the world is experiencing a dangerous shift in activity, that is bordering on the apocalyptic.”

Rose replied, "Well that explains the demeanour of everyone else here, I presume they are all aware of this too?"

"Indeed."

"Well, what's this gotta do with me?" Lyra asked.

"Oh Eve... Lyra. You've sacrificed a great deal, and achieved so much more, but it seems that the universe expects more of you yet."

Lyra's stomach dropped, Pantalaimon shrunk in size against Lyra's feet; Dr Ramirez put a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder.

"I do not know the details, and it is probably best that we keep it that way, but what I do know is that you urgently need to head to the crypts below the college What you will discover is of great importance, and I trust that you will know what to do once you have found what it is you need to find. Trust in your friends, and Lyra...” he said, forlorn, “You must continue building the Republic of Heaven.”

Before Lyra could question the strange man, she noticed a commotion occurring in the Hall. People were making their way to the tall windows on either side of the chamber, and she noticed a deep rumbling that resonated within her. A loud boom sounded from above, and the rumbling continued, making her unsteady on her feet. She picked up Pantalaimon and held him tight against her chest, scouring the room.

“It has begun,” The oddly dressed man said, looking distant.

“Lyra, what do we do?” Pantalaimon asked.

“We need to hurry Pan,” Lyra responded, sounding more confident than she felt, "To the crypts."

**Author's Note:**

> I've just gotta say that this work owes its inception to another great HDM crossover, using Welcome To Nightvale's town and characters. It's a masterpiece and is where I originally drew inspiration for this fic. I could only dream that my fic would be an ounce as incredible as this one: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1062757/chapters/2131218
> 
> (New Alban Crow is the HDM equivalent of the New Caledonian Crow. Caledonia was the Latin name for Scotland, given by the Romans, whereas Alba is the Scottish Gaelic name.  
> Cyäegha is a fictional deity from the Cthulhu Mythos.  
> Hispania Nova is southern USA and Mexico.)
> 
> ((PS. It's been a while since I read HDM, hit me up if you see any glaring errors!))


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